


When Greeneyes Met Sharptail

by Ladderofyears



Series: Drarropoly Founders Edition 2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chatty Snake, Drarropoly: Founders Edition, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Herbology, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magic, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Wiggentrees, draco malfoy has a pet snake, sweet and fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Harry meets a friendly adder and finds out some very exciting news.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly Founders Edition 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039589
Comments: 7
Kudos: 213
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	When Greeneyes Met Sharptail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gnarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnarf/gifts).



> gnarf: I wrote this with you in mind. I hope you like it xxxxx
> 
> This is an O.W.L Level story. Harry and Draco must: work together in either their Eighth Year or as Aurors. I chose Eighth Year. It must include: conversations between Harry and the snake.

Harry was sat, awkward in his seat, as Madam Sprout droned on at the front of the greenhouse. 

Outside the speckled glass he could make out the first snowfall of winter but inside it felt unnaturally warm and stuffy. Harry thought that could have been the height of summer inside the classroom. The same smell of damp, rotting earth and fertiliser – and the same cloying scent of flowers – assaulted his senses, exactly as they had done since he was eleven. 

Harry felt uncomfortable. He felt too _big_ to be back at Hogwarts; felt somehow ungainly and wrong, like he was there on false pretences. 

The charmed heat of the Greenhouse wasn’t helping. He was sweaty, dishevelled and made his already ridiculous hair stand up in every direction. Worst still, Malfoy – his Herbology lab partner – looked pristine and spotless in his black Eighth Year cloak. For some reason the cloying heat didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest. Not a single blond hair was out of place on his aristocratic head. 

Harry rolled his eyes, miffed at himself. What in Merlin’s name was he doing, thinking about Malfoy’s hair, when he needed to get a decent grade on his Herbology N.E.W.T? 

He redoubled his focus, swivelling his eyes away from the boy beside him and back onto the Professor at the front. 

It didn’t matter a single Sickle that he’d died for Wizarding England. If he didn’t pass this class then he wasn’t a candidate for the Auror programme. Harry knew he needed to focus. He needed to listen. He needed a book of neatly written notes, like the one in front of Malfoy, full of long words, swirling handwriting and clever phrases. 

Even now, it still felt a little odd to Harry that Malfoy and he had become friends. 

It had begun in September – a grudging acquaintance based on proximity and shared friends – but Harry had soon realised that there was more to the posh git than he had ever imagined. Draco was funny; his humour was ash-dry and self-deprecating and Harry had found himself laughing until he was red in the face. Draco was clever; he’d had a way of explaining concepts that made them come alive. They’d practised Quidditch drills and they’d duelled. They’d walked Fang around the Lake and had even taken a trip to Hogsmeade together. It’d been simple convenience, of course – neither had wanted to be the gooseberry to their respective best-friend’s dates – but Harry didn’t think that he’d enjoyed an afternoon as much for a very long time. 

Taking his glasses off to give them a wipe, Harry tried to work out what he’d missed during his daydreams. 

Madam Sprout – always terribly pleased by anything with leaves and a stalk – seemed particularly enraptured with today’s specimen. 

“- the _Wiggentree_ ,” Sprout explained excitedly, “is a species of rowan and it’s magical potential is powerful! Very powerful indeed! Of course, the name won’t be new to any of you. It’s been used in potion making since the first days that witches and wizards walked the Earth. The bark is used in healing – it can fix injuries or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught.” She paused, her cheeks pink in the heat of the greenhouse. “But they’re temperamental! Your practical, over the coming week is to work closely with your partners. Care and love your Wiggentrees, Eighth Year! The pair whose sapling looks the most hardy in a weeks time will get my top marks.”

Harry sighed in vexation. A practical, caring for some fussy, faffy little sapling? That was the last thing he needed. He already had a pile of homework so high it might topple over. He watched as the blond wizard collected their Wiggentree from the front and carefully carried it back with long, cautious fingers. 

Malfoy placed it down on the scratched wooden table before giving Harry a worried look. Their Wiggentree sapling wasn’t a very healthy looking specimen at all. The leaves – those that it still had left – were brown tinged and it looked droopy and wretched. Harry gave it a poke with his finger. He thought that a stiff breeze could have carried it away. 

“I need to get a good N.E.W.T in this subject, Potter,” Malfoy said, before Harry had even had a chance to speak. “Or I won’t get the uni place I want.” He furrowed his brow. “So none of your Gryffindor slapdash tomfoolery on this one. We’ll split the week between us,” he continued, seizing his quill and jotting their names down on a scrap of parchment, “and try to make sure our Wiggentree doesn’t accidentally meet their maker under our watch.”

He thrust the parchment into Harry’s hands with a flourish and Harry shook his head, biting back a remark about Draco’s Slytherin perfectionism. Harry swallowed the insult. It was rude and uncalled for and – if he were being _perfectly_ truthful – it wasn’t as if his grades hadn’t improved alongside Draco’s friendship. 

Looking down, Harry could see that Malfoy had assigned him a couple of Wiggentree duties during the week ahead. It wouldn’t be too burdensome a task and so Harry nodded his agreement. 

~~

It was a little past midnight when Harry stirred, waking groggily from a terrible dream. 

Gryffindor Tower was pitch black and so he _Lumosed_ his wand, wanting to chase away the shadows. That was when he saw her: an adder, small and skinny and only about a foot long. She was naught but a baby and she lay across his pillow, as gold as a Galleon against the white cotton. 

_“Hello,”_ she hissed, lifting and nodding her head in greeting. _“I am Sharptail.”_

Harry was surprised by his visitor. He knew that adders were a popular pet among the witches and wizards of Hogwarts Castle but never really among his friendship group. Their enmity with Slytherin had always been too great. 

Harry sat up in his bed and the little adder slithered forward, crawling onto his lap. 

_“Hello,”_ Harry hissed back in reply, the parseltongue rolling from his mouth as natural as taking a breath. _“I’m not sure that you’re supposed to be here, little one. I think that you might be lost.”_

The little snake shook her head, her tiny forked tongue striking as she contemplated Harry. _“I’m not lost at all,”_ she answered. _“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. You are he! You are Greeneyes! The one that the snakes talk of often. The one who died and came back. The wizard who vanquished the Dark One! My master mentions you often,”_ she hissed, _“and talks of your brave deeds.”_

Harry smiled wryly at the little snake. 

_“You’re very kind, Sharptail,”_ he replied. _“I am Harry Potter and I did beat Voldemort,”_ he hissed back, _“but I'm afraid if you’re looking for the great champion then you’ll be disappointed. I’m just a plain old student now – nothing special! – so tell your master to find a new hero. I’m no-one special.”_

If it were possible for a snake to look miffed, the adder did then. Sharptail’s head rose and she looked straight into Harry’s eyes. 

_“It isn’t just Greeneyes’s past deeds that my master appreciates!”_ Sharptail hissed back. _“It is how forgiving that he has been. It is how kind he is still, even though my master says he was a bad person and did terrible things. My master wishes to kiss your red lips and to knot his fingers into your black hair, Greeneyes. Each night he tells me all his secrets and says that he loves you.”_

Harry couldn’t have been more shocked and he felt himself blushing. 

There was a mysterious wizard in Hogwarts Castle who loved him? That was breathtaking, brilliant news. Who could it be? It couldn’t be another Eighth Year Gryffindor for he’d surely have met and talked to Sharptail before if that had been the case. 

_“Tell me more about your master,”_ Harry hissed, letting Sharptail curl around his wrist. The little adder’s scaly skin was warm and dry and she paused, thinking for a moment. 

_“My master is gentle in touch and voice,”_ Sharptail hissed eventually, _“and he treats me with love and care. He often feels sad, for he misses his Father. Not the man he became, but the man he once was. He says that his hands have blood on them but I cannot see it. He imagines that you would reject his love, Greeneyes and his friendship too. He imagines that you would point and jeer.”_

Harry felt sad at Sharptail’s honest words. Who was this mystery wizard, so alone and dejected? His family must have been pure-bloods, perhaps even past supporters of Voldemort, but Harry couldn’t ever hate the mysterious wizard for that, whomever he might be. They’d all been children, pulled without choice into a war that wasn’t of their making. They’d been forced to fight by adults who ought have known better. 

_“Is that why you’ve come here?”_ Harry asked Sharptail. _“Have you come to tell of his love for me? Come to say the things that he doesn’t dare? I promise that I wouldn’t ever hurt him.”_

_“I can sense your kind heart Greeneyes,”_ Sharptail hissed back, _“but I cannot seek to influence the actions of men. That isn’t the way of snakes. I come only with information.”_ Her tongue flicked and danced ferociously. _“Today, my master was reading about the Wiggentree. There was a book open on his desk. He wants to make his sapling grow big and strong but knows not how. He believes it will die. He says that it matters, that neither he nor you can follow your dreams unless it thrives-”_

_“Wiggentree?”_ Harry cut in, everything starting to slot into place. He knew who Sharptail’s master was. It was Draco Malfoy. Malfoy loved him. For a moment the world seemed to tilt on its axis but then it righted itself. Draco loved him and that knowledge felt wonderful. It felt right. _“You’ve come to talk about our Wiggentree? I-I don’t understand.”_

Sharptail wiggled and squirmed. _“You must whisper **‘Wiggentree, your roots are deep and through the cold dark earth they creep. Your strength I give to you to keep,”**_ Sharptail hissed in reply. _“My master searched in all the books of the library to find this enchantment. It must be said at the moment of midnight, Greeneyes! Not a moment before or a moment after. You do this and then your Wiggentree will grow hearty and strong.”_

Harry was flabbergasted by Sharptail. Draco had certainly picked a wise serpent for a companion. 

_“And how, pray tell, did you come by this information?”_ Harry asked. 

_“I was hatched in an Apothecary,”_ Sharptail answered, _“and I would watch and learn all the owner’s magical tricks. This way I learnt many things Greeneyes. My first owner was cruel and would have stolen my life for brews and potions.”_ Sharptail seemed to shiver in recollection. _“But my master saved me. He said I was splendid and that he would love me always. He gave the old wizard a bag of gold to save my life.”_

With that, Sharptail seemed to decide that she had said enough. 

_“I wish to go back to my cage now,”_ she hissed. _“You are warm and, if I could, I would spend the night here, but I am afraid that I might be missed.”_

_“Can I carry you home?”_ Harry offered, trying to repay her kindness. _“We could go under my invisibility cloak. We wouldn’t be seen.”_

The little snake shook her head. _“I go alone,”_ she answered, _“but cast the spell Greeneyes and then you and my master will both get your heart’s desire. That is my only wish.”_

Harry gave Sharptail his word and with that, she slithered away from Harry’s knee. 

He reluctantly placed her carefully onto his floor for it was a lengthy journey back to the Dungeons for such a small snake as she. He watched her little gold body slide and ripple across the floor before she reached the door. Just as Sharptail was about to leave, she turned her head around. Harry gave her a little wave. 

Throwing himself back onto his bed, Harry couldn’t help but grin. 

That little adder had certainly given him a lot to think about. 

~~

The following Tuesday, Madam Sprout was exceedingly pleased with Harry and Draco’s Herbology prowess. 

Their Wiggentree was several centimetres taller, wider and a healthier green than any of the other Eighth Years had achieved. The pair had even bested Neville, which Harry knew was no small feat; his fellow Gryffindor was staying on at Hogwarts next year as Sprout’s apprentice. 

“It’s a thing of great beauty,” Madam Sprout beamed as she examined their sapling from every angle, her floating quill scribing ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ beside both of their names in the class register while she spoke. “I’m mightily proud of both of you. You mightn't have got on as children but it would seem that you make a fine team as adults. Bravo to you both.”

As soon Madam Sprout moved onto the next table, Draco’s eyes swirled around and landed on Harry’s own.

“How did you do it, Potter?” Draco whispered. “That Wiggentree was knocking on Death’s door last week! Did you swap it? Bribe Hagrid? Did you get the House Elves to cast some of their odd magic over it? You’ve got to tell me!”

Harry gave Draco an enigmatic smile. 

“I had some help from a very small friend,” Harry replied, “and I think I rather owe them a reward. Maybe a mouse or perhaps a vole. I think they’d enjoy either of those far more than a Chocolate Frog.” 

Draco looked at Harry like he had sprouted a second head. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about, Potter?”

Harry reached across the worn wood of the greenhouse table and, daringly, he traced his fingers across the back of Draco’s hand. His friend’s skin was warm and every bit as soft as it looked. Harry watched Draco’s cheeks blush as the pupils of his eyes grew dark. Now he’d touched Draco once, Harry thought that he’d quite like to keep doing it forever. 

“I’m talking about a trip to the Magical Creatures Emporium in Hogsmeade this weekend. Just you and I,” Harry replied, “sharing our first proper date. We could slide in a quick visit to the Three Broomsticks. Would you like that?”

Draco nodded. “Very much,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxxxx


End file.
